It isn't like me to lose my cool in a bad situation. I mean for fucks sake I watched my mother die, and even then my head was right where it should have been. I have a knack for it, though it's more of a burden than anything else. But this isn't the point at all. We made our way through the house. We... right, hang on. There were two of us: myself and this young, devil-eyed, girl. She would twirl her body around these magnificently blinding lights just fast enough so that you couldn't tell either apart. No one there could ever be her. I dragged her through the mess of stale beer and washed up users who never left the scene. It had nothing to do with running, or getting the best of the party. I had a better place for us to be; the crowd really sold it for me.
It's my nature, trouble. I don't ask for it and I certainly don't start it, yet it always seems to find its way back to me. The police seem to know I'm an easy target. They didn't even hesitate.
"ID..."
"Sure."
"...and get rid of the cup."
"Officer I'm legal to drink."
"Did you buy that?"
"Nope."
"Can you drive?"
"Sure."
I don't know where her head goes. I don't know why it even leaves at all, but every now and again she lets the world know that she still exists...
Cont...